The Softer Side of Darkness: Theme: Window
by Spyder Webb
Summary: The softer side of Psychoshipping. MarikBakura


**The Softer Side of Darkness**

THEME

_.: WINDOW :._

Marik loathed living with his weaker half's family. He was treated like he was stupid and Isis would get angry every time he tried to prove different. Malik could do nothing wrong in his big sister's eyes. Apologize to the Pharaoh, relinquish the Millennium Rod and do a good deed or two and he was an innocent little angel again.

Marik snorted as he pulled open his closet door, rifling through all the clothes so he could find his favourite t-shirt. If only Isis knew how her perfect brother smoked pot during his breaks at school, or how he always copied Ryou Bakura's homework or about all the other things the stupid little delinquent did.

The blonde growled, unable to find the black cotton material. He stormed to his door and pushed it open. "Hey bitch! What'd you do with my favourite shirt!" He yelled down the stairs. He smirked to himself when he heard the only female in the house mutter something.

"The one with the rabbit being hanged?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I put it in your closet despite my instinct to throw it out." She called up the stairs.

"Damn it." Marik hissed, slamming his door closed and going back to the closet. "Stupid whore probably threw it away." Isis was known to throw away or destroy his things. 'Accidentally' of course.

Angrily, Marik ripped down a grey hoodie and slipped it on over his head. The wind had become blowing harshly outside and the Egyptian could smell rain on the air. He had a long way to get to his destination and knew that it would start to pour before he ever reached it, but at least he was going to try his best to stay dry. The weather network had been flashing a warning for thunderstorms and heavy rains all day and it had only drizzled lightly throughout the warnings.

Satisfied that it would be enough, Marik left his room and dashed down the stairs, skipping three at a time. He'd reached the entrance of the house and was just slipping on his boots when Isis cornered him. She leaned her hand against the door so he was unable to open it.

He could have easily pushed her aside, but he really didn't want to be banished to the Shadow Realm, as it was a pain in the ass to get back from. "Can I assist you with something?" He spoke slowly and precisely. He did that whenever he was attempting to control his temper.

"Where do you think you're going?" Isis demanded.

Marik snorted at her 'mother mode'. "I figured I'd go rob a bank, then buy a bunch of booze to get drunk. Then after that I figured I'd go down to the harbour and blow a few holes in a couple of the boats. And if I was bored after that, I figured I'd go pay the Pharaoh a visit, tell him to kiss my ass."

Isis glared, though Marik was hardly intimidated, "You're not going anywhere. There's going to be a storm tonight and the last thing I need on my mind is worrying about what you're up to."

Marik seethed. "You are not my mother." He hissed slowly. "I am going out and you are not going to stop me."

"Watch me." Isis hissed back.

"Fuck you." Marik grabbed the door handle.

Rishid was suddenly by Isis' side.

"Oh for the love of…" Marik cursed, "Fuck you too!" He spat at the taller man. Being around Rishid always caused Marik to grow weak. It had something to do with the fact that Rishid had been the one that had kept Marik at bay when he and Malik still shared a body.

The quiet man ignored the explosive and glowered at the powerless spirit. Powerless Marik may have been, but that made him no less dangerous. "Do not make Isis worry." He warned.

Marik grunted. Yeah, worry about other people. He didn't have time to argue as it had already started to rain. He turned to go back to his room.

"Do not walk through my house with your boots on Marik!" Isis' voice caused him to pause.

_Do not_ were words Marik apparently had to live by. Growling, growing even angrier, the blonde stomped to the stairs with his boots on. "Fuck you and your bloody carpet!" He spat over his shoulder before moving up the stairs and then to his room. He slammed the door just to let them know he was really pissed.

Pacing for a few moments – long enough to go back to whatever they'd been doing. Probably working on a plan for the next exhibit. Marik really didn't care.

When he calculated that he'd given them enough time, he crept over to the window and quietly lid it open. He was immediately assaulted by a strong gust of cold wind and with it came freezing rain. As silently as he could the blonde slid out through the window, closing it once he was outside so he wouldn't come back to a soaked room. Shivering as he was pelted with the drops of water, Marik carefully stood up as much as he could without falling. Spirit or not he had a flesh and blood body and could still injure himself – and despite what most people's misconceptions were, Marik did not enjoy pain.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to slip off the wet windowsill he leapt across the short distance to a tree that had been growing outside his window longer than he'd been around. He landed on the branch, much like he always did, but didn't take into account the rain.

"Shit!" He hissed as he felt the branch disappear from under his feet. The next thing the blonde was aware of was a throbbing pain in his head and back and he could taste copper. Slowly, after assessing that nothing was broken, Marik forced himself to his feet. Now, not only was he wet and in pain, but he was covered in mud too.

Grumbling to himself as he limped down the dark street, Marik quickened his pace as much as his protesting body would let him.

He often took walks at night when the world seemed deserted and he was the only soul awake. He always had to sneak out, much like he was doing now, as Isis would have a cow if she ever found out that the psychopath living in her guestroom was going into public places.

He usually wandered around all night – anything was better than being at 'home'. Sometimes he'd go to the local parks and just enjoy the fact that he wasn't being supervised or that the fact that there was nobody with him to tell him _do not_ do this or _do not_ do that. Often times he'd have company, but he knew his usual companion would not enjoy walking around in the rain. Marik didn't so much mind it himself, but he'd started off in a bad mood and nothing had happened to alleviate it.

He continued on in the darkness. His destination was practically on the other side of the city, but it never took him that long to reach it. Maybe an hour or so.

He shivered and quickened his pace.

Thunder rumbled across the sky freezing the unsuspecting spirit in his tracks.

If there was one thing Marik hated more than anything it was being afraid of something irrational. Isis probably would have laughed herself silly if she ever found out that Marik's greatest fear – he was afraid of so few things – were lightning and thunder. He'd take that secret to the grave with him – if he ever even died, as the only other individual who knew would never tell.

Flinching slightly at a rather loud crackle, the blonde decided to challenge himself and get to his destination faster than usual.

By the time he reached the dark looming house, the thunderstorm was in full swing and he was too cold to feel any pain. He could barely see a foot in front of his face through the rain and he was pretty sure that the only reason he'd made it was that he knew the way and could have probably walked in his sleep. He hopped the short fence and into the backyard. It wasn't normally so creepy looking, but the storm did wonders for its appearance.

He groped around in the darkness the house cast over him and the rest of the yard, looking for something vital to his journey.

"Fuck!" Marik squeaked as he ran face first into what he'd been looking for. "Bloody fuck." He growled, picking himself off the ground to check to see if he'd broken his nose. He lightly punched the tree in front of him for good measure, as he could taste blood again. Quickly, he wiped the blood off with the sleeve of his hoodie. Anxious to just get this night over with, he started out on the last leg of his trip.

The tree had multiple branches spread out quite evenly around its trunk and Marik knew the exact ones to grab. In quick time he'd reached the branch he wanted, then carefully, since he didn't want to have another unfortunate meeting with the ground below (twice in one night was enough, thank you very much), he inched to the end of the branch until he didn't think it would support his weight any further. From his position he could reach the window across from him and knowing that it wouldn't be locked, he quietly slid it up far enough for him to crawl through.

Once inside the house, and once the window was closed, Marik quickly scrambled out of his wet clothes before his body grew too stiff to move. He crept to where he knew a closet would be and quietly opened it, rummaging through the material until he found an article of clothing he'd left there before. He grabbed another piece of clothing - he wasn't sure whom it belonged to or what it was – but used it to dry himself off as best he could. Droplets of water still dripped from his hair, even after he'd pulled the dry shirt over his head. After finding another item, he was pretty sure it was a shirt; he soaked as much water from his hair as he could.

Satisfied, and a little warmer, he quickly closed the distance between him and a bed he couldn't see in the darkness. Now that he was closer he could hear the deep breathing despite the storm raging outside. He grabbed the heavy, warm comforter and slipped underneath it, quickly closing it around him to capture all the warmth he could. His whole body was unthawing and he had to clench his teeth to stop their chattering, as he really didn't want to disturb the other occupant. As luck would have it, Marik had no luck at all and he hadn't realized he'd moved his feet.

"Holy fuck your feet are cold!" A startled voice from beside him made him wince.

Damn it.

"Sorry." He shivered.

Thunder caused the house to tremble and lightning lit up the room for a moment. It was long enough for Marik to see the piercing crimson eyes glaring at him from inside a cocoon of blankets and it was long enough for those piercing eyes to notice the other flinch at the sound.

"Took you long enough to get here. It's been storming for a while." The cocoon moved as Marik felt a hand grab his arm and tug. Marik took it as a sign that it was okay to move closer, and he did. Once he was pressed against the smaller body he took a moment to savour the fact that he was somewhat warm again.

"Holy fuck your entire _body_ is cold." The other shivered quietly.

Marik grinned, "Sorry." He muttered, but wrapped an arm around the other form anyway. "I tried to leave before it started raining but Isis stopped me and refused to let me leave."

There was a snort and Marik could feel breath against his face. "Stupid bitch." The other murmured and another flash of lightning revealed the inch between the two of them. "You're bleeding."

"Where?"

"Your lip you idiot."

Marik snickered, "Oh yeah. I'm not surprised considering I fell out of the tree in my yard and ran into yours face first."

There was silence for a moment, but then he felt something warm and soft placed against his lips and he winced slightly at the sting. He ignored the slight pain, however, as the kiss was more than worth it.

"All better." He promised when the other had moved away just enough to separate.

"You're still an idiot for falling out of and running into a tree."

"Aw, that hurts Bakura! Deep down in my frozen body, it hurts somewhere." Marik promised, snuggling into the bed and somehow even closer to the other.

Bakura snorted, but let himself be cuddled. "Yeah – like in your pants." He muttered, pushing Marik so that the taller had to lie on his back. The white-haired spirit took the opportunity and laid his own body mostly on top of Marik's, throwing an arm and a leg across him and resting his head on a broad shoulder. "Stop shivering." He ordered.

Marik chuckled softly, "I'm trying." He promised as his hand slid under the long t-shirt the other was wearing and up a smooth and surprisingly naked thigh. He smirked mischievously. "I can think of something that would help warm me up." He suggested, his hand creeping up further. He was _just_ about to reach his goal when a growl stopped him.

"If you don't remove your frozen hand from my body I will remove it from you." Bakura threatened, not in the mood.

Marik pouted playfully, even though the other probably couldn't see it. "You mean you'll remove it for me."

"No." Bakura corrected, "_From_ you."

Deciding that he liked his hand attached to the end of his arm, Marik removed it. He found another hand resting against his side and determined it to be a safer body part to hold on to. Fingers entwined as the two settled down in the dark.

The thunder rumbled on outside and the lightning flashed threateningly, but it didn't seem so bad now. Marik was warm and comfortable and there really wasn't another thing that could have made him happier.

Except one thing.

"You're wearing my favourite shirt." Marik realized as the lightning lit up the room again.

"So?" Bakura yawned.

"So it's my favourite shirt. And you're wearing it." Marik tried to make his point.

Bakura sighed, sleepy again. "You left it here. It smelled like you." He mumbled, closing his eyes.

Marik smiled into the darkness as he wrapped an arm around the other's back. "And now it'll smell like you." He whispered into white strands.

The only response he received was a light snore.


End file.
